Live, from the Wilmington Target

...it's Tuesday Morning!

So I only bought a few things this time, because I'm running very low on cash. This time, the money predicament is my fault, entirely, because over the last few weeks I bought a few too many things on ebay, and the amazing deals just added up--books for the baby, a mobile for the crib, etc. Also, I can't seem to stop buying maternity pants, despite my pact to just live with what I have for a few more months. But I still have to use two giant safety pins in order to wear my corduroys from Old Navy, and my jeans from Target give me Saggy Butt, and that looks retarded. I look like a Special Person, like I think elastic pants are Really Cool. Buying new pants was a moral imperative.

This morning I bought Drano for the perpetually-clogged shower, BAM Easy Off for the perpetually could-use-a-little- scrubbing shower (also my fault, I admit), one can of hearty chicken noodle soup for lunch--and on that subject, why does no one make baked potato soup in a can? And if they do, why isn't it sold at Target? I also bought instant mashed potatoes and gravy in a jar to go with tonight's slow-cooker chicken, which this morning I basted with olive oil, salt, pepper, rosemary, and apple sauce. (I LOOOOVE apple sauce.) It will be a low-maintenance meal, to be eaten before watching Gilmore Girls tonight.

It was a remarkably quick journey to the checkout line where, at the early hour, only one lane was open. Odd, though, for Target. The line was about five customers deep, and the roaming cashiers were beginning to notice. The cross-eyed guy with the big scar on his head flipped on his aisle light and blinked over at our long line a few times to indicate that he, too, was now open for business. I had just arrived at the line, but paused a moment in order to give the elderly lady in front of me the opportunity to jump over first. Because you wouldn't shove your grandma out of the way just to be first in line, would you? Also, I was assessing the situation. I knew from prior experience that the cross-eyed guy with the big scar on his head was not the sharpest spoon in the Target drawer. Was it worth it to give up my spot in Aisle 5?

Against better judgment, I jumped. I was first in line, and waited patiently while the cross-eyed, scar-headed guy, David, opened up his register. I had my Cingular Rebate card out and ready to load into the credit card machine as soon as it was ready. Meanwhile, the line was filling up to four deep. David punched in his code on the register. And then punched his code again. And then one more time. Then he starts getting all shifty-eyed and muttering, "Oh nooo," all the while still punching. This couldn't have been good. He was starting to act like Will Forte as the Panicked Customer Service guy, one of my all-time favorite skits, just because I happen to feel the same way pretty much all the time when I have to deal with people at my job.

"Ohhh nooooo." David keeps saying, barely audible. Everyone's starting to look annoyed while David continues to punch in the wrong pin number. Is there a manager around here? Should David, I don't know, ask for help? Maybe?

On the other hand, I'm thinking that if I lose my cool and say something snappy or, more true to my form, grab my basket and huffily relocate back to the other aisle, I will have sealed my fate today in a) doing something extremely retarded at work today, above and beyond typical levels of retardation and b) really annoy a customer in doing so. Or, someone will randomly call me up and start screaming at me, just because. Which inevitably makes me cry. So I keep waiting, silently rooting for David. This is Customer Service Karma we're dealing with here, a very serious business.

Meanwhile, all the people behind me are starting to jump the line again. Another cashier opened up a new aisle. The lady two people back gathers up all her items from the conveyer belt and leaves. The guy behind me clucks his tongue and moves, too. The people behind them are long gone. Which leaves me, solitary as an oyster, die-hard loyal customer to David, King of the Target cash registers.

Finally, finally, he tells the cashier next to him that he's having issues, and she comes over to reset his pin number. We're in business. And just as though nothing had ever happened, as though I had not been standing there for several minutes, very much witness to and part of the scene, David blinks slowly and plunges in with his script: "How are you today? Would you like to apply for a Target Card, saving ten percent on all of your purchases?"

I'm great, I'm fabulous, and yes, David, I really really would, that'd be super.